What makes Anish Kapoor controversial? On the face of it, the India-born, British sculptor who has been contributing to cities across the world with his massive installations does little to provoke outrage -yet, he generates precisely that kind of hysterical indignation and trolling with his recent works and moves. Earlier this year, it was for his "exclusive rights" over the blackest of black pigments called Vantablack that is so dark, it apparently absorbs 99.96 per cent of light. Developed for the military, this is the first instance that a colour has been copyrighted to an artist, causing much resentment within the community, even though most would have no use for that particular pigment, or could choose from other variants. It is Kapoor's public acknowledgement and forthrightness that has caused such fury.
In India, we were made familiar with this anger when he designed the 114.5-metre-tall Arcelor Mittal Orbit sculpture ahead of the London Olympics, a structure that looked like it had faced the fury of a wrecking ball, but which, despite its mangled shape, manages to stand out as a symbol of deconstruction and originality. As our eyes get accustomed to its increasingly familiar form in Stratford, it has become part of the city's landscape and a popular visitor sight, even though its detractors continue to pick on it as a waste of money (it was privately funded for most part by Lakshmi Mittal).
Last year, the artist invited public wrath when his Dirty Corner (Le Vagin de la Reine) at the Palace of Versailles in France was described as the "queen's vagina", the queen in this instance being thought to be Marie Antoinette. Vandals sprayed graffiti and anti-Semitic messages over the striking installation, and the second time round after this occurred, the artist chose to leave it there, a public addition to, and recognition of, his work. Though there have been calls to have it removed for its sexual connotation, it has stayed resolutely in place, a 21st century addition to a historical setting where, while it looks markedly different from the graceful statuary that surrounds it, it commands its respect in the setting.
I thought of all these things when confronted, this week, with the simple majesty of Cloud Gate at Chicago's Millennium Park. Kapoor's is not the only work of public art at the park, but it dominates the skyscape, the steel oval nicknamed the "bean" because of its shape comprising seamlessly welded, highly-polished steel plates that reflect the city's towering skyline and the clouds overhead. Visitors gravitate towards it to engage with it to a degree I have not seen in any other work of public art. The steel curves captivate with their reflections, and as you pass under it, the concave omphalos (Greek for navel) chamber offers up multiple reflections (and a headache, if you stare long enough).
New York's Sky Mirror at Rockefeller Plaza does not have the same impact because it quite literally disappears into the cityscape it reflects, the reason the artist refers to it as a "non-object". Both Sky Mirror and Cloud Gate were commissioned in 2006, part of the artist's use of modern materials and organic, geometric shapes, of which his use of the "void" has resulted in stunning sculptures. In galleries, the void takes the form of concaves and, sometimes, convexes, where all notion of shape disappears as you are swallowed up visually within them. In public sculptures, he carves it often into anthropomorphic stone shapes. As he continues to explore even larger installations in cities around the world - controversies be dammed - it is clear that Kapoor's work has, and will, stand the test of time as being both current and futuristic at the same time.
In India, we were made familiar with this anger when he designed the 114.5-metre-tall Arcelor Mittal Orbit sculpture ahead of the London Olympics, a structure that looked like it had faced the fury of a wrecking ball, but which, despite its mangled shape, manages to stand out as a symbol of deconstruction and originality. As our eyes get accustomed to its increasingly familiar form in Stratford, it has become part of the city's landscape and a popular visitor sight, even though its detractors continue to pick on it as a waste of money (it was privately funded for most part by Lakshmi Mittal).
Last year, the artist invited public wrath when his Dirty Corner (Le Vagin de la Reine) at the Palace of Versailles in France was described as the "queen's vagina", the queen in this instance being thought to be Marie Antoinette. Vandals sprayed graffiti and anti-Semitic messages over the striking installation, and the second time round after this occurred, the artist chose to leave it there, a public addition to, and recognition of, his work. Though there have been calls to have it removed for its sexual connotation, it has stayed resolutely in place, a 21st century addition to a historical setting where, while it looks markedly different from the graceful statuary that surrounds it, it commands its respect in the setting.
I thought of all these things when confronted, this week, with the simple majesty of Cloud Gate at Chicago's Millennium Park. Kapoor's is not the only work of public art at the park, but it dominates the skyscape, the steel oval nicknamed the "bean" because of its shape comprising seamlessly welded, highly-polished steel plates that reflect the city's towering skyline and the clouds overhead. Visitors gravitate towards it to engage with it to a degree I have not seen in any other work of public art. The steel curves captivate with their reflections, and as you pass under it, the concave omphalos (Greek for navel) chamber offers up multiple reflections (and a headache, if you stare long enough).
New York's Sky Mirror at Rockefeller Plaza does not have the same impact because it quite literally disappears into the cityscape it reflects, the reason the artist refers to it as a "non-object". Both Sky Mirror and Cloud Gate were commissioned in 2006, part of the artist's use of modern materials and organic, geometric shapes, of which his use of the "void" has resulted in stunning sculptures. In galleries, the void takes the form of concaves and, sometimes, convexes, where all notion of shape disappears as you are swallowed up visually within them. In public sculptures, he carves it often into anthropomorphic stone shapes. As he continues to explore even larger installations in cities around the world - controversies be dammed - it is clear that Kapoor's work has, and will, stand the test of time as being both current and futuristic at the same time.
Kishore Singh is a Delhi-based writer and art critic. These views are personal and do not reflect those of the organisation with which he is associated